Since I Found Serenity
by goodmorningdoodlebugs
Summary: A slice-of-life representation of Simon's time spent on Serenity. [ each chapter will be based off of a prompt from the 100 Words Challenge rated T for language/inevitable violence ]
1. Crash

**Prompt**: Crash  
**WC**: 1203 words  
[ this is my first fanfic published here and i'm doing it as a part of a making-yourself-comfortable-with-your-writing sort of challenge. hope you enjoy! ]

So Simon was still getting used to this ship that was Serenity. He was far more comfortable in the world of plushy pillows and getting whatever he wanted, but this was wasn't for him. This was for River. This was for making her better, and he certainly couldn't do that by hauling her back to the world that could (would) rather hate sent her away to be tested on like a lab rat. She'd been through enough trauma, in his opinion.

Every night he did the same thing: get her medicine, get her water, get her in bed; after that, well, he was free. As insensitive as it sounded, he really did relish in the moments of silence. When only the hum of the engine could remind him that he was indeed on a ship and not tucked in to his bed like on Osiris, he found himself looking more and more forward to the times when he could sit in the mess hall and think-actually think. And that's what he was doing tonight.

It took a lot for him to be doing this, he thought. To be throwing himself out of the world he knew and loved and tossing it all away , but nonetheless he was happy to be doing it. Whether his parents approved or not, he knew he was doing the right thing. For once, he knew it in his own heart rather than through the words of his father's booming voice and intimidating stance. He knew it through his own mind and not through the guilt-inducing expressions his mother offered whenever he would even question his life's decisions. But most importantly, he saw it in River's eyes when he was knelt down to calm her and in the way she shook and even sometimes shied away from his touch. The thought of her being with someone else in that state... Well, it was one that made him feel almost sick to his stomach.

He was pulled out of his thought induced trance when he heard the rather loud slam of the metal door. It made his body jump and jolt and his pale skin turned near white. By traditional timekeeping it was almost four in the morning and by anyone's standards, the crew should have been asleep. Should have. Yet, the physician was met with the broad shoulders and intimidating stride that matched Jayne. The supposed 'public relations' guru that most likely had a few concerning fetishes, if you were going by just how close those guns were to the photos of near naked women on his wall.

But Simon preferred not to think about that, as he was sure the rest of the crew agreed. His eyes followed the man only briefly, before he would get caught and questioned about /why/ he was daring to look at him and moreover why he was even awake. As the resident 'newbie' to the crew, he didn't particularly want to answer the loads of questions that could be asked pertaining to this topic. Too sensitive, or rather, it would make him look that way. Unfortunately, the mercenary 's eyes were too quick.

"There a reason you're starin' at me?"

"-No, not at all. I was just wondering-What are you doing up? If I'm not mistaken, we're docking tomorrow and the captain usually favors having you along."

"Doc, you been on-what, two or three trips with us? In my book, that don't constitute you bein' able to ask me questions like that. Or assume anythin' about me."

As much as that made Simon with he could have pointed out just how much Jayne (and the rest of the crew, for that matter) seemed to love making assumptions of him and his family (and just about anything else they could), he kept his mouth shut. He was a genius after all, he knew when to be quiet and not question the big man-ape, especially not when said near primate had picked up a heavy looking bottle of alcohol.

It was less than a surprise, really.

Simon had seen him drink during the day, always having that bottle beside him, or sitting by his plate when they did sit down to eat, or when they'd stopped by that moon. First thing the mercenary did was get a drink, if Simon remembered correctly. Plus he showed all sorts of signs of alcoholism, from the irritability to the way his hands shook when the captain actually did tell him he needed to lighten up on the whiskey. Whiskey? Whatever it was-Simon hadn't been paying much attention to anything but the book in his hands when he'd heard that argument happening.

Had the man just left, Simon wouldn't have thought much about the intrusion. Just chalked it down to another mannerism of the already incredibly rude man and let it go, but unfortunately he just couldn't. Not when he heard the bottle crash to the floor, and definitely not when he'd already rushed over to see a fair amount of blood gushing from the mercenary's cut hand. The doctor in him was in autopilot, urging him to go to the infirmary instead of just letting it go, like he was sure Jayne would have preferred.

"I'll clean up the glass in a few minutes, just go," Simon ordered. /Ordered/. It wasn't his place in the usual day's events to be ordering crew around, but it was a perk of being the official ship's physician. He even outranked the captain, at times.

"Doc, it ain't more than a cut, I ain't gonna let you cut on me over nothin'." Just a cut? Yeah, a cut that would need five or six stitches at best. Simon could only scoff at the dismissal.

"I won't need to operate. But if you don't, I'm legally obligated to sedate you." Not really. Well, maybe. Usually his patients weren't quite so adamant. The look of not only utter malice, but disbelief as well prompted another statement from Simon. A less confident but hopefully more effective one.

"I'll call the captain, I promise."

The pause was uncomfortable for both of them. Simon was on his knees, attempting to clean up whatever of the glass he could get without cutting his fingers up and Jayne was simply standing there, holding his wrist upright and inspecting the glass embedded in the deep gash. He'd gotten worse in jobs, but that was when Zoe was the only one there to stitch him up and saying no to one of Zoe's orders was basically a death sentence. Especially when the captain was standing at the doorway of the infirmary, hands gripping at the front of his belt buckle and giving that look that'd make anyone submissive.

The mercenary considered Simon's statement while avoiding eye contact at all costs. Finally, he gave a muttered of an answer. "-Fine." Another pause, this one considerably shorter but no less awkward.

"But I better get a lollipop or some shit after."


	2. Cheater

**Prompt**: Cheating / Cheat  
**WC**: 997  
[ wrote this one quickly, but i still like it. please R&R as usual! It keeps me motivated to write! ]

Usually when the crew got together for a good 'ol game of cards, it was really just a competition between Zoe and Mal on who had a better poker face. Usually Zoe. But this time, it seemed to be amateur hour. Simon had set himself up at one end of the table, River huddled beside him and holding back every urge to blurt out what the best move would be. You would think that someone with a genius intellect would be able to beat out a simple man in something like cards-a simple matter of mathematics and estimation. Unfortunately, Jayne had a damn good poker face of his own and after the first round, the doctor knew he was dealing with more than just a simple man.

Tension was thick and both of them could have sworn they heard Malcolm say something about not starting a fight, but neither were all that interested in what their captain had to say for once. Simon's fingers held the cards carefully, noting how very bent they were. He'd have to remind someone to pick up another set next time they docked. Bent cards meant easily identifying their number with a bit of careful memorization. But he wasn't worried. He assumed, like most of the crew who hadn't played with the mercenary, that his opponent probably wasn't smart enough to recognize more than just the numbers and colors. No details-he was too thick to even consider that. Not even that the two of spades had a deep crease down the back, or how the jack of hearts was so worn in the back that you see the array of fingertips that once held them through the pattern. Simon's hand was good. A straight. Hopefully it was better than anything Jayne had. Despite the hope, he kept the calmed expression on his face as a mask.

Jayne, on the other hand, had set his cards face down in front of him, seeming pretty sure of whatever it was hidden behind the intricate, blue design on the backs. He was leaned back in his seat, enough that if Simon pushed his foot just a bit further he could tip it back from the legs just an inch or two off of the floor. It was a strong temptation, he had to admit. Between the smirk on his lips and the way he so carelessly put in one of the numerous chips he had was taunting, especially when the comparatively small bet took up all Simon had left.

Hesitantly, he put in the last of what was left from his once high-piled stack of chips. Jayne was a worthier opponent than he'd expected, he had to admit. There was a skill behind that smarmy mug of his. But Simon was sure he could overcome the challenge, he was sure he could win. Not that it got him much, just the night off of cleaning the (rather large pile of) dishes, but this was about something more important: principle. It wasn't that he really cared about not having to get his hands wet, it was that he cared about Jayne outsmarting him. He cared about being made a fool of in front of the crew. It was a stupidly prideful thing to care about but he felt he deserved at least one of those every once in a while.

"Set 'em down then, doc." The casual tone to Jayne's voice was a mockery, in Simon's eyes. He just looked so damn confident and so damn proud of himself for winning at a game of smarts-if you could even call it that! The longer Simon went on, the more he convinced himself it was really a game of chance. He'd gotten nothing good in the last three rounds and he was absolutely sure he had his percentages down perfectly. He should have been succeeding, not flustered by the dwindling chances of his success.

Hesitancy was once again present in the doctor's actions. He looked over his cards once more, then the pool of chips that separated the two of them. Maybe he could get it. By his calculations, counts, and (usually lucky) guesses, Jayne couldn't have beat the straight. The chances of him getting a flush was near none, judging by the fact that he'd given four cards in the beginning. The odds of four cards of the same suit, that just happened to be the same as the one he held? Now that just wasn't likely. His confidence was growing by the millisecond, the shake in his hands turning from near fury to all sorts of excitement.

"Now I ain't never seen Simon look so giddy about somethin'..." Came Kaylee's voice. She'd been watching from her spot on the counter, the perfect vantage point to see the range of emotion that had passed over Simon's face in the last thirty minutes. Not that the doctor had even noticed at that point.

He set the hand down in front of him, splaying the one, two, three, four, five cards out. His poker face was broken, a toothy grin parting his lips as he leaned back just the same as Jayne was. The affect was broken when he nearly fell in the chair, but the sentiment stayed.

"Aww dammit-" Jayne leaned forward with a huff, the legs of his chair hitting against the metal floor with a clack! loud enough to make Simon jolt. The doctor's eyes followed closely as Jayne's calloused fingers went to lay the cards down. One, two, three, four, five-

All hearts.

"Now here I was thinkin' we'd get to play another few rounds." The taunt in his voice was enough to make Simon want to stand up and smack him across the damn table.

"You are a cheating 王八蛋的婊子, Jayne Cobb." And that was all the Tam had to say on the subject.


	3. Tea

**Prompt**: Tea  
**WC**: 1006  
[ nnnnot super proud of this one. i wrote it really quickly to hit my deadline due to some crazy anxiety tonight. still, hope you enjoy and if you feel obligated: please review! ]

It had taken him awhile to decide what exactly it was that he could almost /taste/ on his tongue, that he'd been imagining for the last few hours. Cravings were annoying, but unknown cravings were far worse. Especially when it forced him to just lay in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling and finding himself more and more (and more, and more) annoyed with the fact that he just couldn't figure it out.

Simon wanted tea. It was a common craving for the doctor on the late nights he spent, for the most part, entirely alone. A little chamomile went a long way when one was trying to get to sleep, he'd learned quickly. Even if the 'chamomile' was just a half bag of some random tea and the rest... well, god knew what the rest was. Simon preferred not to think about that, or most of the skimped-out foods he was forced to eat on a daily basis.

Well. At least it tasted, uh... okay. Not as bad as the constant protein supplements and flavorless soups that Kaylee tried her absolute hardest at. They never did seem to turn out like the home cooked meals the entire crew surely did miss.

The doctor was quiet this time around. During his first few nights he hadn't really grasped the concept of sound travel in such a large ship, but after he heard a few complaints from Mal he knew to pretend he was sneaking out under his father's rule once more. He took the time to close the doors almost silently and tip toe to avoid the sound of his shoes against the metal grating. Yes, shoes. He refused to go barefoot, even when Kaylee insisted that the gratings got cleaned 'whenever they needed it'. Nice as it was, Simon really didn't find much comfort in that statement. At all. Really, it was logical. If they didn't even pick up new medical supplies when they truly did need it, who was going to put in the effort to clean multiple levels of metal walkway? Certainly no one Simon had met in his time on the Serenity.

When he got to the mess hall, a room he'd found to be more and more of a comfort each night he spent there thinking, he didn't bother turning the lights on. If he was just getting a (disappointing) cup of cold tea and 'going straight back to bed'-he'd claimed that each other time, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still think he really was _just_ going back to bed-he wouldn't need more than the counter top light to guide his careful hands.

He was quick and careful not to make any 'racket', as he'd heard the complaints say. The little cup was set down so carefully he didn't even hear a _clink!_ when it was set on the counter. The plastic packaging, however was a bit more difficult. Simon had a little more difficulty with the crinkling sounds, though he made sure to keep it to a low level. Even if it took two gorram minutes to get it undone, he would have done anything to avoid another mini lecture from the captain. Those really were intimidating, after all.

Leaning against the counter top, he took a sip of the tea and, for once in his proper little life, didn't even attempt to hold back his disdain with it. Cold, near flavorless, and whatever flavor there actually wasn't exactly... well, good. At all. Or even moderately appealing. He missed the way it tasted back on Osiris, when it was actually **tea** and not some leaves someone picked up somewhere and tried to sell it off as some low-price alternative.

"You'd think with the amount of tea Inara drinks the captain would actually make an effort to stalk something other than _牛粪_." It was a mumbled statement, probably not one he'd dare to be making the next day. He hadn't been expecting any sort of response to it either, but he hadn't expected a lot of things from the crew.

"Captain means well, he just don't know much about fancy teas and things like that. Maybe 'Nara will teach him a few things."

The doctor's eyes flicked over to the shadows and had he heard any voice but Kaylee's, it would have shot a jolt of all sorts of panic through his frame. But Kaylee was understanding. She was nice, much nicer than anyone else on the crew. Simon admired that. When the lights came on, there was something off a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure he does. But in the meantime, I'm stuck with," He held the cup up, brows raising as he sucked in and sighed out a breath, "_this_."

Maybe it was the dramatic gesture, or maybe the sheer strangeness of the situation. One would be hard pressed to find Simon actually smiling without the aid of his sister, but it wasn't as if Kaylee had any objections to being the one that brought that light tone to his voice, or made his eyes squint and lips spread to make way for his grin.

"Come on Simon, it ain't that bad. 'Sides, Captain's not used to dealin' with all the fancy stuff. Wish he was, though, that's my favorite part of bein' on the core planets." Despite the engine grease on her face and the rather unkempt way she usually dressed, Kaylee did like that sort of thing-the fancy dresses and all of that. It made her remember that there were different things in life than what she had, and it certainly did lend itself to reminding her what good she had even without those shiny pieces of jewelry she passed in the shops.

"You'll get used t' it and soon enough it'll be all that fancy stuff that makes your nose crinkle." The giggle that resounded and the grin that remained was enough to remind Simon that perhaps it wouldn't be _all_ downsides, being a criminal.


	4. Blood

**Prompt**: Blood  
**WC**: 1156  
[ another slightly late one! whoops! but i like this one much better than the last. hope you enjoy and as always, if you feel like you wanna, please review! ]

It was surprising to see Simon look so... natural. He knew what he was doing and it showed on his face, in his steady fingers and the way his voice didn't even shake a _bit_ when he saw the bloody wounds in his infirmary. The look in his eyes when he watched the needle fill with liquid was intense, focused, and there was not one ounce of hesitancy was behind it.

To summarize: it was very, very different from the doctor's usual attitude.

The first time the crew saw him patch someone up-Kaylee, after that bastard had shot her for no damn reason-his skill was obvious. But even in the smaller moments, such as when he was on his knees stitching up a gash on Jayne's calf, the look still remained. Sure, his hands weren't quite so frantic (a leg wound was certainly not as serious as a shot to the stomach after all), but there was that sort of seriousness in those blue eyes even still.

"Be more careful next time." Simon mumbled, though with the merc's antics, that was sure to be shrugged off next time the crew went out. In the seven days he'd spent on the ship he'd already seen the man come in for anything from a stomachache to, well, this and he could just feel that this would be a regular occurrence. Still, he had to say those sorts of things. He had to make sure that the policies he held so close to his heart-even repeated to himself on occasion-were still met, whether they were on Osiris or on the edge of space. It was comfort, and more importantly: it was normalcy.

Unsurprisingly, the doctor heard a scoff and only a statement of dismissal. "Yeah, sure doc." In that familiar tone, like Simon wasn't even a real person, just a service to be consulted when someone staying on the ship couldn't patch their own self up. Utter disrespect, but not exactly new. He was used to those rich people, the ones who could have sworn there'd be robot parts or something under the doctor's skin, complaining and moaning over how their splinter wasn't being pulled out fast enough. He'd heard it in folks like Jayne too, the ones who couldn't have been bothered to admit that they'd done something stupid. Those were always the people that came in most, and usually with the worst injuries as well if you liked to compare.

It struck Simon to ask a few questions. Maybe one key one, such as: "What did you do when you didn't have a medic doting on you?" to which, by Simon's predictions, the mercenary would have scoffed once again, roll his eyes, and given some crude statement about how he didn't really _need_ someone like Simon around, or that he just liked giving the 'doc' extra work. Simon wouldn't have put it past him, in complete honesty.

But instead of the snarky question, he simply finished bandaging the gunman without another word. He taped off the gauze and smoothed it over with his fingers, careful but maybe not quite as careful as he should have been. He didn't enjoy the little wince that made Jayne's muscles tighten under his touch, but it wasn't as if he didn't think he deserved a little bit of it. Immature? Maybe. But there was no debate, in Simon's mind at least, that his patient would have been smiling had the situation been reversed. He was quite sure that even Jayne himself wouldn't have been able to deny that.

"Don't put too much pressure on that or you'll tear the stitches." His voice wasn't cold exactly, but it wasn't as warm as it was when he was fixing up one of Kaylee's little cuts or giving Wash an ice pack for a bump on his head from one of the ship tremors. His eyes didn't meet with Jayne's as he continued his statement, nor when he pulled the red stained rubber gloves off of his hands. "I don't want to have to redo them."

"Yeah, yeah, doc. I'll be sure not to get shot no more neither. Wouldn't wanna inconvenience you or nothin'." The gunman (surprisingly) didn't scoff, but the statement was still loaded with sarcasm. Almost immediately, he was on his feet, weight resting on his good leg. He did a good job hiding the pain on his face, but it didn't do much to convince Simon that it was a good idea. Still. Faster he was out of his infirmary, the better at that point.

"Would it kill you to say thank you?"

A pause, which was likely only provided by Jayne's surprise. Sure, he'd heard the doc speak up sometimes-usually to say some dumb thing he thought was clever-but not so angry sounding. Unfortunately, before Jayne could reply the doctor was speaking again.

"Or even, maybe... I don't know, /listen/ to something I say? Did you not hear the part where I said I graduated in the top three percent? Or were your ears too full of 牛粪 to actually hear anything but your own perverted thoughts?"

"What's wrong with you? You on your period or somethin'?" Simon should have expected that. He should have expected one of the dumb comments that Jayne seemed to cycle through instead of even hoping for an inkling of understanding. He considered an array of things, one of them being shoving the closest needle he could find into the man's neck. He thought about a lot of things too, but all of those thoughts seemed to culminate into one:

Jayne was right. Of course, it came in a more harsh form, but he was right. Simon shouldn't have been so angry and he knew it. And more unsettling to him: He had no idea /what/ was making him so angry.

So he didn't reply. The patient was of more importance than his own stress, whether his emotions were telling him that or not. Logic, logic, logic, almost like a mantra.

"If you experience any unusual pain, be sure to tell me, and no I'm not going to give you morphine or anything else along those lines. Ever."

Jayne, accurately, took that as his cue to leave. Mumbling something about 'PMSing' and chocolate, he walked-or rather hopped-out. Vein-riddled hands gripped at whatever he could and soon enough-with the help of counter tops and the entrance door-he was out of the infirmary. Sadly, he was not quite out of Simon's thoughts. It was likely that the doctor would be thinking about this visit for awhile.

Quite awhile.


	5. First Kiss

**Prompt**: First Kiss  
**WC**: 139  
[ aaAAAH I'M SO SORRY THESE KEEP BEING LATE! the weekend's got me too chill, yo. this one's going unbeta'd because time. also i swear this is not goin where you were thinking ]

It wasn't so unusual for the ship to be shaking during transit, nor for the hum of the engine to get a little louder when they were avoiding all of the clouds of debris. Of course, when you had things to do you had things to do and a little quake now and then wasn't going to stop you. That was Simon's approach, at least, and he was rather determined to stay on his feet cleaning the mess their last stop had made in his infirmary. Mal had been left with a rather large gash that (thankfully) didn't need stitching, but Zoe had somehow ended up with a wrist in a cast. Things had been a bit frantic with Kaylee panicking over the bump left on the captain's forehead and, well, everyone else insisting on being crammed into the little room as per usual.

Returning the bag of solution to its proper drawer, Simon decided it better not to question why exactly it had been taken out; or how it had somehow ended up /under/ the operating table. He'd given up on the pristine condition he'd first seem the infirmary in-but was it too much for him to ask that things at least stayed in their place? The blood stains could be wiped away, the muddy boot tracks washed off with a bit of scrubbing, but how was he to be keeping a clean and safe environment if he couldn't even keep track of the unused needles?

Mumbles about god knows what passed between his lips as he settled onto his knees to pick up yet another strewn-across-the-room supply. This time, one of the few still packaged sets of needles left. It was almost infuriating to him, and had he not been so scared of being kicked off-no, of River being kicked off-he would have said something to the captain himself. Something like 'I need /your crew/ to respect /my/ infirmary' or 'Next time you need a sterile needle, you'll be wishing you hadn't ignored my rules about touching the medical supplies'.

To which Mal would have replied 'Oh yes, Doctor, you're completely right! We'll pick up a whole new supply next time we stop and I'll put up a notice about your rules immediately!'

Okay, so maybe he wouldn't actually say that, but Simon could fantasize.

Had one been listening closely, they could have heard the doctor mumbling out this fantasy, complete with a poor imitation of the captain's rather specific dialect. He'd hardly ever scrubbed a floor before he came on board this ship. In that moment he thought he could identify with the maids-the ones his mother insisted on hiring-he'd spent so much time making messes for in his youth. His mumbled rant was interrupted for a near silent apology to them.

"Who in the hell are you talkin' to?"

The doctor's focus had never been broken so easily, he'd wager to say. The cleaning rag Simon had been supplied with was set aside as he sat up. Jayne standing there at the door, probably having been listening since the embarrassing imitations-

"No one of concern." It wasn't until after the statement that Simon realized the gunman had an actual reason for being there. A cut on his finger was bleeding into a cupped hand-well, when the blood wasn't being sucked out of it directly. Unsanitary, cringe worthy for the doctor, but then again: what wasn't cringe worthy about Jayne?

"Y' sounded like preacher prayin' for forgiveness 'er somethin'." He made no attempt to ask Simon for entrance, just walked straight past him and over to the spot he'd been callously directed to last time he tore the room up. A little bandage would be good enough, surely.

"I could have gotten that for you." While it sounded like an offer to serve, it was far from it. More... a reminder that the location was not open. It was Simon's place, Simon's temple. No one else allowed unless they were invited in or absolutely needed to be there.

"Yeah, and y' could'a gotten off the ship when I told you too, but look who's still here."

The jab had become commonplace for Simon, though that didn't mean it wasn't still bothersome in one way or another. Regardless, he kept his mouth shut. His only sign of defiance was standing to his feet to assure that Jayne didn't make yet another mess for him to clean up. Contrary to his usual mannerism, he had no problem standing over his shoulder-figuratively, of course, as Jayne had his height beat by a good half of a foot-watching his bloodied finger to make sure he wasn't /touching/-contaminating-anything.

Another rumble, though it wasn't enough to disrupt the two. What /was/ enough was Jayne's gripping at the different contents of the door and tossing them all over the counter, absolutely no care for Simon's careful organization system behind his actions.

"Would you just let me-"

Jayne turned to him, a nearly angry look on his face. "Well if you'd stop movin' shit every gorram day, I could actually find it!"

"If you would just pay attention to what I tell you, you would know that the bandages are in the exact same place that they were yesterday, and the day before, and the day before-"

Another rumble. This one made the room shake, made the clear tubing fall to the floor below them, but most importantly: it made the two of them lose their balance. They both tumbled, unfortunately in the same direction. Their bodies met and crashed to the floor in what was most definitely one of the less enjoyable ways Jayne had experienced.

And Simon could have sworn he felt lips somewhere in that tumble.

Lips against /his/ lips.

"去很远的地方离我很快." Simon ordered, pale skin turning all shades of pink and red underneath the mercenary. His palms pushed at Jayne's chest, shoving him away frantically before anything even more awkward could happen. Though-really, what more awkward /could/ happen?

For once, there were no arguments. Not even a snarky comment. Jayne was back to his feet, just sort of... standing there. Awkwardly, even. Jayne was a lot of things, but Simon had never taken him as awkward. Had Simon been able to think of his own comment he would have made it, but his mind was entirely blank. Or rather, blank on anything except that incredibly invasive moment that played over, and over, and over in his head.

"Just-Uh-" The mercenary's fingers fumbled to get a hold of the bandages he'd uncovered just before the unfortunate quake, "Gittin' the thing."

And with that, he was out.

Thank god.


	6. happy birthday to you

**Prompt:** happy birthday to you  
**WC:**873  
[ short, sweet, i dunno. it's 3 AM. i'm tired. hope you enjoy, please review this unbeta'd thing- ]

When times like these rolled around, Simon found himself much cheerier than usual. It was strange to see the entire crew, being happy and sitting around the table, as if they /weren't/ criminals running from the Alliance. On top of that, he felt a bit insensitive realizing that even after several months on the station he hadn't even learned the other crew members' birthdays. And of all people's: Kaylee's. He hadn't known about it until he saw Zoe from the corner of his eye, gesturing for him to stay quiet as she came up behind the engineer and set a little box in front of her. No fancy wrapping paper, just a metal box with a bow on top.

At first, he was a little anxious. Seeing how horribly his own birthday had gone, it wasn't difficult for him to imagine how terribly this one could have been. Then again, the only thing that could one up last time's rather disappointing turn of events was if the entire ship blew up. At least that would be a painless death. Well, Simon supposed it would be painless, being incinerated. He'd spent a lot of time imagining the different deaths he could have experienced. Anything from torture to having his organs sucked out in the vacuum of space to what he considered one of the most terrifying prospects: Reavers. Sure, he was smiling and laughing along with everyone else but that didn't keep his mind from wandering. Even as he was sitting there beside his friend, he was imagining the gory ending, the skins sewn into seams as trophies... You know-the usual around the table talk.

Only the sound of a familiar melody snapped him out of the autopilot. Guitar. His head turned to find the source of the strumming, only to see the mercenary seeming to strain himself to remember the order his fingers should have been in. He wasn't singing like Inara and Wash, nor trying to remember the lyrics like River seemed to be trying to do. Well, they assumed she was trying to remember the lyrics. For all they knew, she was trying to calculate the likeliness of another accident, but it was a kinder gesture to guess the former.

When the little song was finished, the first thing the engineer did was thank everyone. That seemed to be a running thing: you act thankful when people do things for you. While that sounded like a simple thing of common courtesy, it was actually a little surprising to see. People in the 'verse had gotten a lot meaner since the crew was just a bunch of anklebiters.

"Thank y'all-" She was grinning ear to ear, looking between the crew members with what could only be described as a look of sheer delight. "Really, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, but you better open that before one of us does." Wash always did seem in a good mood-well, from what Simon saw. He imagined the man went through his own stresses, between the captain's harsh attitude and... well, they sure seemed happy together but Simon could only imagine what being married to someone as intimidating as Zoe was like. Regardless, the doctor saw him as a respectable man. And a kind one too, if the request not to immediately kill him and his sister was anything to go off of.

At the suggestion-if one could really call it that-Kaylee's attention finally turned back to the box. Her fingers-covered in engine grease as usual but nimble all the same-were quick to pull at the side of the bow, puling the ribbon from its shape before setting each edge loose. Her grin never faltered, not even a little as she pulled at the top of the box off, though it did grow wider once she saw the contents.

Now, she had no occasion to be wearing a shiny broach but if you think that matters you'd be sorely mistaken. In fact, even without the prospect of a ball in sight, she gasped, immediately took the crystal covered little bird and held it up. Had Simon not known her better, he would have expected her to think the thing was a real, living creature with the care in her grasp.

"It's gorgeous!" In honesty, it was tacky. Everyone realized it, probably even Kaylee herself, but with the giggle she let out there was no way anyone would doing anything but agreeing. She turned to Simon, toothy smile still in full display. Quickly, she offered the broach out to him. "Would you pin it on me? I don't wanna get it dirty or nothin', and your hands sure are cleaner than mine-"

"Oh-Yes, of-of course." Simon gave a nod, ignoring the series of scoffs at the use of 'clean' to describe him. Once, he'd asked Mal to stop describing him as such, yet when Kaylee did it.. Well, he seemed to be okay with lots of things Kaylee did, actually. Those graceful, clean (and don't forget soft) fingers reached out, adjusting the lapel of her work suit to pin the little gift to it.

"Y'like it?"

"It's gorgeous." He echoed, smiling near as side as she did.


End file.
